It was four a.m. and much too early for most people to be up, but Melanie wanted to get back to the hospital by six. Dr. Romalati was planning to bring Brad out of sedation, and chances were, he’d already asked the overnight nurses to begin the process. Before showering, though, she wanted to go online to transfer the money for her dad from one of her and Brad’s money market accounts. She’d actually just written the check a few minutes ago, and since she wouldn’t be going to work the way she’d planned, she’d told her dad he could pick it up from her at the hospital.
She pulled up her bank’s web site, typed in her user ID and password, and waited for their accounts to display. She scanned all three of them, her checking account and both their joint money market accounts, but she frowned when she noticed the balance on one of them. She clicked the link for it, and her stomach tightened. Brad had withdrawn another ten thousand dollars on Friday. She thought about how she’d checked the account that very morning, but when she clicked on the withdrawal slip she saw a time stamp of 3:08 p.m. She took a deep breath, trying not to get herself worked up. Brad was steadily lying and saying he wouldn’t do this again, and worse, he’d begun taking money from their joint savings.
Melanie checked the balance of their other account, and thankfully he hadn’t withdrawn anything from that one. She sat there praying for strength and the ability to forgive him, because she didn’t want this latest setback to sabotage her new thinking. Everyone made mistakes, and Brad and their marriage were her priority. She had to remember what was important, and now that Brad had nearly lost his life, maybe he would realize how foolish it was to continue playing the stock market, gambling, or doing whatever it was he was caught up with.
She transferred the money for her dad, signed off, and got up from her computer. But no sooner than she’d gotten to her feet, she sat back down. Another dizzy spell had struck her, and she tried to shake it off. She even saw stars this time and somewhat struggled to breathe. But after a few minutes, she felt fine and went into the bathroom.
When she removed her robe, she stepped on the scale and smiled like a giddy child. The readout couldn’t have been right, but it had to be because she was staring straight at it. She was 140. She’d lost five whole pounds in only two days, and she had never been more proud of herself. It had taken years to achieve such a huge accomplishment, and she thanked God for giving her the desires of her heart. She’d hoped and prayed all her life to be thin and beautiful, and now she finally was. Everything was falling into place at the same time. Brad was on his way to a full recovery, they’d be able to mend their marriage, and Melanie could finally feel good about herself. She did wish things were better between her and her mother, but just being closer to her dad was helping to make a major difference.
Melanie didn’t feel the best physically, but emotionally she felt serene and grateful. She was happy and looking forward to an awesome future.
When Melanie stepped off the elevator, she felt a bit weak, and she wasn’t sure why since she’d drunk a shake and taken a multivitamin. She still didn’t have an appetite, but she’d drunk it anyway because of how low her energy was. Maybe she was feeling this way because of all the stress and worry relating to Brad. It was certainly possible, so hopefully she’d feel like her old self when he was home.
She walked into the ICU and saw Dr. Romalati leaving Brad’s room. He smiled at her.
“Good morning, Melanie.”
“Good morning. How are you?”
“I’m good, and so is that husband of yours. He’s already awake. Still a little groggy, but he answered all my questions, and he doesn’t seem to have any neurological problems.”
“Thank God for that, and thank you for everything you’ve done for him.”
“You’re quite welcome, and of course I’ll be back to see him later this afternoon.”
“Have a good day,” she said.
“You, too.”
Melanie eased open the door and saw Brad watching television. He looked at her and smiled.
She smiled back at him and spoke to his nurse, who was replacing his empty IV bag. “So you’re finally awake, I see.”
“Yeah, but I feel lost.”
“I’m sure,” she said, leaning over and kissing him on the lips. “You hit your head pretty hard.”
“So I hear.”
“How are you feeling otherwise? Any pain?”
“No…I mean, my arm and head are sore, but only when I move around. More than anything, I’m exhausted.”
“That’s to be expected. You’ll feel better with each passing day, though.”
“I’m also having a hard time remembering what happened. I do remember driving down State Street, but that’s about it.”
“A woman ran a red light and hit you.”
“That’s what the doctor told me, but I don’t remember anything like that,” he said, covering his mouth and coughing. “He says I might never remember, either, and that’s already driving me crazy.”
“Maybe not remembering is a good thing. Maybe it’s God’s way of protecting your mind from such an awful incident.”
“I still don’t like it,” he said, turning the TV channel from ESPN to the local news. “Was something written up about it in the newspaper?”
“Yeah, but I left it at home.”
“What about on TV?
“I’m sure they did, but I didn’t see the news Saturday night or yesterday.”
“Maybe they’ll have something on this morning.”
“Maybe. Sometimes they cover stories from the weekend on Mondays, but why don’t you try to relax?”
Brad locked his eyes on the young male news anchor, barely blinking. If they did air the story, they would certainly show all the damage that was done. Not just to Brad’s SUV but to the woman’s car as well. Worse, they would report that her daughter had been killed, and Melanie didn’t think Brad was ready for that. This wasn’t something he should be focusing on, and he needed to stay calm. But he continued watching, and just as the nurse walked out of the room, a photo of the crash flashed on the screen.
“Late Saturday afternoon, thirty-one-year-old Jessica Davis ran a stoplight and slammed her compact vehicle into a full-size SUV,” the anchor said. “The owner of that SUV, thirty-eight-year-old Bradley Richardson, was rushed to Mitchell Memorial and listed in serious condition. Miss Davis’s one-year-old daughter, Brittany Davis, was also riding with her and was pronounced dead at the scene of the accident. Miss Davis, however, was treated at Mitchell Memorial and released to authorities. She has been charged with vehicular homicide, attempted vehicular manslaughter, child endangerment, and failure to yield. As of this morning, no bail amount had been set, but a hearing is scheduled for two p.m. today.”
“Dear God…no,” Brad said with tears streaming down his face. “Please, God, don’t let it be true. Please don’t tell me she died.”
Melanie touched his arm, trying to console him. This was the reason she hadn’t wanted him to see any of this. It was too much too soon, so she grabbed the remote and changed the channel to the first thing she could find. But Brad wailed loudly like someone was beating him. He covered his face with his hands and cried with the kind of emotional pain Melanie hadn’t witnessed from him before. But when she heard him mouth his next few words, her body fell numb.
“Dear Lord, no,” he said, weeping uncontrollably. “Please tell me my baby girl isn’t gone. Tell me she’s not dead.”